The Lies

Poema composto na mesma estética de Edgar Allan Poe.

The Lies

Straight ahead, the house burns

As burning dreams, of thousand suns

If it’s real or art, either virulent

Shines apart, quotes what we meant

Answers we ask, doubts we look for

Spreads warm, until we look for

The seasons we pray, for evermore

Laughing, the demon chooses the pain

Cruelty, sarcasm, our choice the main

Under the moon when pray, we still cry

Under the roof when say, we still die

A miracle, a saint, we look for

A god or faith, we look for

Choosing the dark, or even more

Bleeding, knocking on darkness ears

The dawn, we curse through years

Still punching the wall, quoting screams

Until it dies, mistakes we call dreams

Was wrong, but still looks for

You died, but still look for

Still will do, for evermore

Crashed, your precious care

That you own, desire, you dare

Crashed, in thousands pieces of sand

Composed, tight in your hand

But still blind, for it you look for

Sadly the saint being, you still look for

Won’t stop, nevermore

Raging the fires, we pray

The curses, the lines, we say

The lies, the deaths, we see

But truth, and life, won’t stop to be

Because a miracle, we still look for

For invisible flowers, we still look for

And shall smile, nevermore

But the rainbow out the night still shines

All the music, poems, all the kinds

Will through the ages, smile once more

Touching wises, their mind and core

For the reason, we still look for

Until far more lies, you still look for

And shall find out, nevermore